


Arrest My Heart

by Pocket_Full_Of_Rosies



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Awkward Levi, Canadian Politics, Cop Eren, Eren likes teasing, Kenny is awesome, Kenny's drunken antics, Lawyer Levi, Levi has a bad day, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Levi, Uncle of the year, detective eren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 14:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11625180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pocket_Full_Of_Rosies/pseuds/Pocket_Full_Of_Rosies
Summary: Levi falls in love while bailing his uncle out of jail. He wouldn’t mind if his uncle got arrested more often if it meant he could see a certain gorgeous detective again.Or, the story where Kenny tries to hook up his socially awkward nephew with the smoking hot detective by getting arrested.





	Arrest My Heart

His Friday had been terrible. But now, driving down to the Trost District Police Station in his pajamas at three in the morning, Levi had a sinking feeling that his Saturday was going to stink more than Hange on a four-day bath strike. And it was all fucking Kenny’s fault.

He had been looking forward to Friday all week: it was cleaning day at Rose & Maria Lawyers (Levi had happily taken initiative to plan this weekly event, of course), and he was going to get that big fat paycheck for closing the Reiss case after two years of screaming and bawling in Judge Shadis’ divorce court. Levi was ready to lay all his cards down and hand that bastard Reiss a court order for child support and alimony. He was sick of spacing out whenever Reiss’ sleazy lawyer opened his mouth and staring at the stupid statue of Greek justice goddess Themis in the courtroom. (He thought it rather fitting for Themis to be replaced with some porcelain goddess toilet deity; entirely suiting for the shit show he was dying to flush out of his daily schedule.)

But the real highlight of his day was this: a dial-in contest, where the first call placed at 5 o’clock right on the dot would win the caller a year’s supply of Mr. Clean cleaning products! Levi planned out his battle strategy well in advance: he spent the past week driving Reiss into a corner; putting forth teary-eyed Historia Reiss and teenage runaway Freida Reiss up as witnesses to Reiss’ neglect (sympathy wins cases, he had learned early on in his career), and when court was adjourned on Thursday afternoon, Levi patted himself on the back as he had reduced Rod Reiss to the level of a moldy potato in Shadis’ eyes. He expected the verdict to come down in no more than an hour after closing arguments. He’d be home by 4:30, phone at the ready. 

Boy, was he psyched for those cleaning supplies.

He was feeling good, almost generous enough to offer to clean Hange’s cockroach infested apartment. 

He was so elated that he forgot that things don’t exactly go well in the life of 34-year-old Levi Ackerman. 

His stunted height wasn’t the only tragedy in his life, though it was the cherry-on-top he needed on his IBS-inducing parfait of countless foster homes, Kenny, not keeping a single relationship for over a year, Kenny, social constipation, Kenny, near-germaphobia, and Kenny, to name a few. 

Friday morning, he woke up to the sound of construction in the townhouse next door. Then his Keurig handed in its resignation, pumping the kitchen full of black smoke as it choked to death on an Italian Roast. He was late getting to the office after airing out his kitchen, to find that in his absence, the paralegals (and even some of the janitors) on duty for the day had seen their chance to get out of cleaning-with-short-Satan, and made their run for it. He was fuming by the time he reached the courthouse, where he was blind-sighted by Exhibit-32, whereas Reiss’ lawyer produced photographic evidence of Alma Reiss’ affair with the pool-boy and suddenly the potato wasn’t that moldy anymore. The case was set to continue the following Monday and when Alma Reiss cornered him at 4:50, crying on his reluctant shoulder, Levi almost cried with her. Needless to say, as he sat in a traffic jam at 4:59, phone in hand, dialing furiously, he was served his reminder on a silver platter. 

Feeling dead as he heard the message – “We’re sorry, you are 11 th place in line. Please try again — ” he only nodded, unhearing, as a traffic cop wrote him a ticket for a distracted driving violation. His house still stank like ass when he got back and as he sat on his couch, a bottle of vodka in hand, his phone rang. Seeing the number, he sighed, feeling a migraine oncoming. 

“Yes?”

“It’s me.” Came the customary monotone drawl. 

No fucking shit. “I have caller ID,” he snapped, then counted to ten before speaking again. “What do you want, Mikasa?”

When Levi was eighteen, he was notified that a certain Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman, relatives he had never met, were killed in a car accident. With Uncle Kenny already taking his regular trips upstate, said unknown relatives had put Levi down as an emergency contact and next of kin right when he turned eighteen. Said relatives had a six-year-old daughter, now orphaned, the cops had told him. And since blood is fucking thicker than water and that shit, wouldn’t Levi be a dear and become little Mikasa Ackerman’s legal guardian? 

“No fucking way.” He had slammed the door in their faces.

Now, as he gripped his phone which connected him to Mikasa, he still felt the familiar coils of age-old anger, resentment, and guilt swirl in his gut. Oh, so while poor little Levi had his head shoved in the toilet by the Dok family’s eldest son, the Ackermans would do nothing. But the moment he became legally useful, they decided to stick him with their kid? No. Fucking. Way. 

He later heard that Mikasa had been adopted — of course she had, she wasn’t an ill-tempered midget who made foster parents wash their hands five times before cooking him dinner. She was taken in by a good family, graduated with honors, and was recently promoted to detective at the Trost Police Station. 

“I’m leaving on vacation,” Mikasa drawled on. “My boss is forcing me to go.”

“And?” He thought he was doing a good job at being civil. 

There was silence on the line before Mikasa spoke carefully. “I gave Kenny your number.”

And here, Levi was, in the words of the red-haired Anne Shirley, thrust into the ‘depths of despair’ at her words. He had cut off all contact with Kenny Ackerman the moment he turned eighteen: if he thought getting picked on by Nile Dok was bad, his horizons on bad behavior were clearly broadened when he went home with Kenny at age ten. He had enough of his shit from his earlier days, from placing bets for him at the local bar when the man was too drunk to get there himself, to scrubbing the bathroom clean when he upchucked. Oh, and Parents’ Day at school had been a huge blast: the PTA just loved him showing up high as a kite and mistaking the water fountain for a urinal.

When Mikasa turned eighteen, Kenny latched onto her like a barnacle. With her saintly tolerance (or indifference) of him, in addition to the courtesy shield that came with the cop package, Kenny didn’t even feel the need to send Levi a Christmas card anymore. Levi enjoyed four glorious, Kenny-free years. 

“…in case of emergencies, I told him. He shouldn’t bother you too much.” And the line went dead. Short and curt, the conversation ended before Levi could sink his claws into her.

She said Kenny wouldn’t bother him. Levi knew that Mikasa had great intuition (which certainly helped her on cases) and he hoped this wouldn’t be one of those times when that intuition failed both of them. 

“Tomorrow is a new day,” he chanted, channeling his inner Scarlett O’Hara. He pulled the covers over himself, sending a mental prayer that his Saturday would suck less and that Kenny Ackerman would be gone with the wind. For good. 

* * *

 

The call came in at 2:42 AM. 

“Shorty! Hey…Shorty…Shorty boy, how’re ya?” Kenny was slurring his words, no doubt intoxicated. “Where you at, m’boy?”

“Cut to the chase,” Levi growled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “What type of shit are you in now, Kenny?”

Kenny chuckled deep guttural chortles that made his skin crawl, reminding him of that gloomy day when the man had let out the same noise, watching Levi drag his black garbage bag out of the Dok family’s house.

“M’at Trost. With the po-po. ‘Kasa’s not here and I got picked up by this cop who thinks he’s Mick Jagger. Cuz he’s got the _moooooooovvvvvveeeeessssss like Jagger_ —”

“What did you do?” Levi pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Kenny huffed on his end of the line. “Not my fault, Shorty. Ronald Regan wanted to come home with me. Levi, _he wanted it._ ”

Levi wondered if he should just drop the call and go back to sleep. Pick up Kenny from the police station in the morning when whatever he was on dropped him back into the modern era. 

Kenny blabbered on. “He was just sittin’ there in his clown suit, lips painted red — he had the whole Marilyn Monroe thing goin’ on. Heck, he even got the same haircut. Redhead though, not blonde.” He stated this pointedly, as though it made a difference. “And he _wanted_ to be princess carried. Figured, y’know, if I can’t get Marilyn then Old Ronny was the next best thing.” 

“The fuck you’re smoking, you shitstain.” Levi was wide awake in his confusion. He tried recalling what he learned in school about the movie star, the former president, and clowns, and wondered how the hell they all made it into Kenny’s delusions. 

Then again, he shouldn’t even bother to make sense of his uncle’s madness. 

His uncle’s drunk antics had always been all over the place: when Levi was thirteen, Kenny, after twenty cans of beer, convinced him to role-play 19th Century London. Kenny was ‘Kenny the Ripper’ and Levi was forced into drag and tied to a chair. Kenny then stubbed his toe on the table and promptly fell over snoring, leaving poor Levi tied up for eighteen hours with a full bladder. 

He really shouldn’t be surprised at what Kenny’s brain could concoct on stimulants, but his rambles today made even less sense than usual. Levi felt as though the man was either seriously confused, or there was some link he was missing. 

He sighed. “Stay where you are, shitty old man. I’m coming.” 

He jerked the phone away from him in disgust as he heard Kenny make drunken kissing sounds. 

“Thanks, Shorty. Can you bail Ronald Reagan out too? I’m taking him home tonight.”

* * *

 

He arrived at the station at 3:10 exactly, parked his car and marched up to the station’s front desk. 

“Where can I find Kenny Ackerman?” He got straight to the point. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a pair of filthy men wander around in the waiting room, praying they wouldn’t get close 

The guy on duty was Officer Marco Bodt, according to the name tag; a sweet looking lad with a splattering of freckle across his cheeks and a crop of jet black hair. 

“Ackerman…Ackerman…ah, Mikasa’s uncle, right? You must be her cousin, Levi.” Marco smiled cheerfully, as though it wasn’t the witching hour in a station full of druggies and thugs booked for the night. He pressed the intercom on the desk, muttering into it, “Pick up for Kenny Ackerman; Eren, Jean, coming your way.” He flashed Levi another smile. “Lockup towards the left. Detective Jaëger and Detective Kirstein, the arresting officers, will be there to discuss bail with you.” 

Thanking Marco with a curt twitch of his head, Levi made his way in the gestured direction. When he reached the cell Kenny was in, he paused, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. 

Kenny was swaying in his cell, his face slathered with red. Outside the cell, two men in suits stood agitated, furiously arguing with the captive and for some reason, each other. Sitting in a chair nearby, was a statue of Ronald McDonald. 

“Levi! Shorty!” Kenny’s face lit up as he whipped his arm back and forth. “Get me outta here, m’boy! Ron and I have a date and these goons are cockblocking me!”

The two detectives turned to face him. The taller of the two had two-toned hair, lighter at the top, darker at the bottom. His most noticeable feature, however, would be his long face which gave him an eerie resemblance to a certain barn animal. 

And as for the other…

Levi blinked. Then choked. 

While he sputtered and hacked, those two amazing ocean eyes grew to the size of saucers as the brunette detective rushed to thump him on the back. 

“You alright, sir?”

God, even his voice was heavenly. Thankfully his coughing fit was coming to an end and he grappled to regain whatever composure he had left in front of this Adonis. He was taller than Levi (almost a given), but shorter than his colleague. His body was lean but Levi could just make out the shape of muscles beneath the crisp white shirt that he wore. Levi resisted the urge to run his hand through the man’s chestnut brown tresses that well complimented the color of his eyes, imagining the locks to be as soft as they looked. 

“I’m fine.” He said. He may have stuttered the line. His voice may have come out uncharacteristically high pitched. The sounds that left his mouth may have been along the lines of, _“I-I-I’m f-fine.”_

The detective watched him with worried eyes before hesitantly accepting his statement. He waved for Levi to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk, across from Ronald McDonald. 

Suddenly Levi wished that he was not wearing the custom-made mint green pajama bottoms he had gotten for his 30 th birthday (courtesy of Hanji). An obvious gag gift, it was patterned with the logos of different cleaning brands, which made him feel like a walking billboard (he dismissed the snide inner voice that reminded him that he didn’t quite have the height for that). Remorsefully, he remembered reaching past the nice set of silk pajamas he donned when he would have company. He then sighed, realizing he had had zero incentive to wear them, as the last time he had company that warranted nice PJs (and the stripping of said PJs) had been well over two years ago.

Detective Gorgeous cleared his throat. “I’m Detective Eren Jaëger —” _Eren,_ Levi tried hard not to smile dopily, _what a beautiful name —_ “and this is my colleague Detective Jean Kirstein. Our other colleague informed us that you were a relative of hers and that, uh, if Kenny came in for his regular visits, then we should let him call you.” 

He stared at Levi with those breath-taking eyes of his, those two orbs raking down his body. Levi swore that they darkened like stormy ocean waters the lower they got. Then when he blinked, Detective Jaëger’s — _Eren’s_ eyes were meeting his again. 

It was a beautiful moment, just gazing into the young man’s eyes, feeling as though somewhere within those oceans, Levi could see a buoy, a lighthouse, _something to latch onto;_ a connection…or a common understanding of sorts. Levi let his brain take him places as he imagined gazing into these same eyes when he woke up each morning, or across the aisle as they stood in suits and recited their vows —

And of course, Kenny had to ruin the moment. 

“Nah, this guy? Levi, he’s the cop who arrested me, the one who got dem moves. He’s Mick Jagger and that’s Rainbow Dash.” Kenny giggled to Levi’s horror as he gestured to the two detectives who let out equal sounds of contempt. 

He smiled a mouth of crooked, yellowing teeth at Eren. “Hey, hey, Mick. Where’s your Maggie Trudeau?”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Forget Margaret. This bastard here’d go for old man Pierre.”

“Jean!” Eren shrieked, indignant. Jean threw his hands up in a _‘whatcha gonna do ‘bout it’_ gesture, prompting Eren to threaten to turn him into glue, and the two were off squabbling again. 

Levi didn’t know much about Canadian politics, but he couldn’t help noticing that _Pierre_ was a male name. There was a bubble of elation growing in his chest, and Levi felt as though he could fly, though he really didn’t know why. _Yes you do,_ a snide inner voice said but Levi didn’t dwell on it, choosing to simply bask in the information that Eren might like men. 

He cleared his throat and the two detectives looked at him, suddenly realizing how unprofessional they must seem. 

Eren scratched the back of his head. “Sorry you had to see that. Uh, this is a kind of awkward way to meet, but since you’re Mika’s cousin, I think we should do this properly.” He held out his hand for Levi to shake. “Eren Jaëger, nice to meet you. And you’re —”

“Gorgeous.” 

Clearly the mind-mouth-filter Levi had developed in his thirty-four years of life wasn’t doing him any favors with this hunk. It took a second for three pairs of eyes in the room to go wide, two faces to burn, one mouth to let out a neighing laugh, and Kenny to puke in the background. 

“Shit-t I-I — ” Levi cleared his throat, furiously willing the blood out of his cheeks. He fumbled with his words before giving up and pasting on trained expression of indifference. “Nice to meet you, _brat_.” He emphasized the ‘brat’ part. He mentally clapped himself on the back for how collected his voice came out. 

The color in Eren’s cheeks rescinded and letting out a sheepish chuckle, he raked a hand through his brown locks and gave a teasing smirk.

“‘Gorgeous Ackerman’, huh? Pretty sure Mikasa said your name was Levi. Think your uncle would agree.” His face took on an expression of disgust as he looked at Kenny tossing his cookies. 

“Jaëger.” Jean growled and Eren narrowed his eyes. 

Without letting go of Levi’s hand (which the older man internally beamed at), Eren’s free hand curled into a fist and met Jean’s to bob up and down three times, before both fists opened. Eren’s was scissors. Jean’s was paper. 

“Fuck you to the next life, you suicidal bastard,” Jean swore as he went to grab the mop. 

Eren shuddered. “No thanks. I don’t do riding. No equine sex for me.” Then his lips curled back into a smile as he turned back to Levi. “Where were we at again, Gorgeous Ackerman?”

“I was talking about you —” That brain-to-mouth filter was clearly still not working, or Levi was just distracted by Eren’s quip about _riding_ (no, brain, don’t fucking go there!). Eren smiled good naturally, but Jean snickered loudly and Kenny gave a weak warble that might’ve been a tired laugh, or just the sound of him choking to death on his own vomit. 

Levi closed his eyes, took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then, as though he were speaking to an opposing attorney, he glared at the young man and leveled his voice. “Levi Ackerman. Why do we need to ‘do this properly’, brat? Hurry up and tell me how to bail this loser out. I don’t have all day to deal with this shit.”

He managed to suppress the grimace when Eren let go of his hand and twirled a lock of hair nervously. 

“It’s just…I wanted to make a good impression. Since you’re Mikasa’s cousin and all. Sorry if this is weird, but I’m actually Mika’s foster brother. She came to live with us after her parents’ accident and, well, we’re really close and have been there for each other since, like, forever.” Eren gave a nervous laugh. “So I want you to know that Mika’s been taken care of; that she has a nice family and we all love her.”

Levi stared. Then his face lost whatever color it gained in Eren’s presence and horror, dread, and that same, pestering _guilt_ cannibalized his innards. Eren’s words were heartfelt; the sincerity in his beautiful green eyes and the tiny nuances in his gestures spoke a million words of his affection towards a girl who was _not_ his blood. Fuck blood being thicker than water; so what if it was denser? Blood did nothing to stop that unhappy and angry eighteen-year old from slamming the door in the face of a helpless little girl just because his own life sucked ass. 

Maybe, he tried to console himself, maybe it was karma that Mikasa ended up happy. That she ended up with someone like Eren. Maybe because her only remaining family was a drunkard criminal and a selfish midget, both of whom turned their backs on her, that she ended up with a good family. The Jaëgers must be a good family, Levi thought, a good family that raised a good son like Eren. 

Some one like Eren was too good for someone like Levi. 

Levi didn’t deserve Eren’s goodness. _Levi didn’t deserve Eren,_ period. 

Eren’s brows furrowed, as though he noticed Levi’s internalized glumness, but at that moment, Jean stuck a hand covered in unidentifiable chunks of hell into Levi’s face, expecting him to shake it. 

“Jean Kirstein,” Jean’s face was haughty. “I want to make a good impression too. After all, one of these days Mikasa and I will be joined in holy matrimony — ”

“Over my dead body!” Eren screamed. “Mika’s not into equine sex either!”

There was a pain in the left side of Levi’s chest, convulsing and thrashing about, like a fish out of water, gasping for air that never quite soothes the burning, empty ache. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kenny fixing him with an unreadable expression. A look that seemed too sober to be plastered on the face of a man who has an outstanding resume of drunkenness since he was eleven and tried to chug rubbing alcohol. 

Eren and Jean were still bickering, and Levi cleared his throat loudly. 

“What are the charges against my uncle? I want to pay the bail and get out of here. I had a shitty day and need more goddamn sleep.” He wanted to be out of Eren’s presence; he wanted to be under his covers, finding solace in mindless dreams that might stop the twisting in his chest.

“Right,” Eren said, looking at Levi cautiously. “Kenny Ackerman wandered into a McDonald’s drunk and tried to rob the cashier with a water gun.” Jean held up the plastic pistol. “When the manager, Mr. Springer, kicked him out, he sprayed him, then vandalized the store and ran off with the Ronald McDonald statue.” Jean jabbed a thumb at Old Ronny lounging in the chair. “So that would be a single charge of Robbery in the Third Degree, one charge of Inebriation, causing a Public Nuisance, and vandalism. Don’t worry,” Eren said noticing the stiffness of Levi’s features. “most of the charges are frivolous, and an attorney would get them overturned in no time. The judge set bail at $1000, cash or bond.” 

Levi quickly paid and Jean released Kenny from the cage. As the man’s front was caked with vomit, he left the station wearing Eren’s jacket (“It’s alright; just give it to Mika next time you see her.”) and his own clothes in a garbage bag. 

“It was nice to meet you, Levi,” Eren said, eyes glowing warmly, as Levi escorted Kenny out of the room. 

Levi was unable to meet his eyes, muttering a quick “Whatever” before shoving Kenny out the door. If he had looked up, he would have seen the disappointment, clear as day, on the younger man’s face. Levi didn’t notice, but Kenny did. And that got whatever gears not yet worn from alcohol abuse in his head turning for the first time since he had dropped out of the ninth grade. 

“Hmmm.” Kenny made a sound and wagged an eyebrow at his nephew and was ignored. 

Stepping over the threshold of the police station, the cold early morning air brought him the painful realization that if not for his circumstances, Levi might’ve had a chance with that brown-haired god. That if he wasn’t so afraid to talk to Eren — afraid that his damn mouth couldn’t be filtered, that he’d let slip something on his past, on how he treated Mikasa, and Eren would sneer at him with disgust. That Eren would see him for the bad person he was and not speak to him again. 

That if Levi were a better person, he might have a chance with the young man he thinks (knows) he has fallen in love with.

Kenny gave a pathetic whine as the station door shut behind their heels. 

“What?” Levi spat. “You’re not getting into my car if you throw up again.”

“Levi…Shorty…” Kenny looked at him with miserable eyes and Levi cringed as the old man’s eyes filled with tears. 

“W-What is it?” He ventured cautiously. 

Kenny let out a sob and wiped his eyes. “I forgot to bring Ronald Reagan with me.” He whispered. 

Levi stared, then swatted Kenny in the head. 

“That’s Ronald McDonald, you fucking moron.” He groaned. 

Kenny looked confused. “Wait…then who’s Ronald Reagan?”

_Cut him some slack,_ Levi mentally chanted as he buckled Kenny into his car. _The guy barely finished the ninth grade. This is the same guy who asked what Obama’s last name was._

Levi did end up finding solace in his sleep: his chest ached less when it wasn’t Eren Jaëger plaguing his thoughts, but rather a strange dream involving Ronald Reagan, Marilyn Monroe, fast-food clowns and public indecency. 

* * *

 

A week has passed since Levi bailed Kenny out of jail, and even a man with more than just a couple of screws loose like Kenny could tell that there was something troubling the normally composed lawyer. 

For one, on the night of the arrest when Kenny asked if he could crash, Levi simply nodded his consent, eyes staring off into eternity and beyond. When Levi came home Monday night and found Kenny still there, he simply gave an “Oh, you’re still here” before sighing and wandering off when his usual response would be to kick his uncle to the curb. 

If Kenny didn’t find this behavior disturbing, then watching a maniacal bespectacled woman barging in the house at midnight and stealing good liquor right under Levi’s nose without the man even chastising her certainly did it for him. Or the time when Levi had stared at a ketchup stain Kenny left on the kitchen table for an eternity, before dragging his finger into the substance and drawing what looked like an upside down peach. Or maybe it was a butt. The short man’s eyes then bulged open and he hastily wiped the table off and washed his hands three times. 

During his extending stay at Levi’s house, the younger man seemed to only sigh unhappily and stare off into the distance. It was as though Shorty had lost his virility; like a mutt that got his balls chopped off. Lost that sass and spark that had Kenny so taken with him in the first place. 

Then it hit. 

Kenny mentioned returning the borrowed jacket to Mikasa when the look of a ferocious lion staring down its prey entered Levi’s eyes, and he growled that _he_ himself would deliver the jacket back to Detective Jaëger. 

“ _In person_ ,” Levi had muttered quietly after, as though encouraging himself. Later, Kenny saw his nephew standing in front of the bathroom mirror, small figure swallowed by the large jacket, an unreadable expression on his face. 

Kenny was confused, but then recalling the tension between his nephew and the good-looking detective that night, the pieces clicked. Oh. _Oh._ Shorty had a thing for Mick Jagger and Mick Jagger was into Pierre — _scratch that,_ Mick Jagger was into _men_ as well. He supposed that the upside down peach/butt could’ve been a heart but then again, Levi never had the best art skills. 

When he was at least sixty percent sober, Kenny could recall the eight years spent with Levi as his charge, and he’d have the decency to grimace at the shit he put his nephew through during those trips down memory lane. With the amount of liquor in the house rapidly declining each time the bespectacled woman (he learned her name was Hange) visited, Kenny found himself in the first dry spell he’s had since he first sniffed Polysporin. He recalled, reflected, and realized that maybe, _just maybe_ , Kenny Ackerman still had the chance to be a good uncle, and avoid being bitchslapped by Kuchel when he finally joined his sister in pushing up daisies. 

With that in mind, he called up the closest liquor store and asked, “Hey there, how much cash you got in that register?” He then hung up on the manager’s alarmed questioning. Then, raising his phone at a high angle, he snapped a selfie and uploaded it to social media. 

_@TrostPoliceStation — On my way to rob Hannes’ Beer Store on Wall Street! #YOLO #UncleOfTheYear #ShortyGonnaGetSome #PlzSendMickJagger #RainbowDashCanComeToo_

“Ronald Whatever-Your-Lastname-Is, this is for you.” Kenny muttered as he holstered his brand new water gun and set off into the night. 

* * *

 

When Levi hauled himself down to the Trost Police Station for the third time that week, he considered nicking a pair of handcuffs from that nervous-looking beanpole officer who always seemed to be misplacing his (the guy probably wouldn’t even notice). He’d then chain Kenny up in the basement and finally sleep his entire four miserable insomniac hours per day. Hethen halted that train of thought when his brain took a wrong turn and he began thinking of _someone else_ he’d rather have locked in his basement and how he’d gladly never sleep again if it meant they would — He seriously considered asking Marco to be booked for the night before he could commit a crime. 

“What did that piece of shit do this time?” He practically growled at Marco as he trudged into the station. 

Marco sighed sympathetically. “Your uncle filed a robbery report.” At the confusion spreading across the shorter man’s face, he elaborated. “He reported that someone broke into his car and stole an ounce of _cocaine._ Upon further investigation, we found that the car with the smashed windows wasn’t registered to your uncle — most likely _he_ smashed it _himself_ — and of course, he was popped for possession of a controlled substance. Intent to sell hasn’t been established yet.” 

Levi was at his wit’s end: the hell was Kenny’s problem? He made sure that there wasn’t any alcohol left in his house (or at least Hange did) so intoxication couldn’t be the problem here. Furthermore, Kenny’s petty crimes were…just ridiculous. Tagging the cops in a social media post about robbing a store? Stealing a phone, then Facetiming the cops with it? Kenny must really want the Trost police’s attention. 

_Just bear with it, Ackerman. You can do it._ He chided himself. _Mikasa’ll be back in a week and Kenny’ll be gone. It’ll just be your lonely ass in the house again. Besides, it may be the last chance you’ll see him._

Levi groaned. “Just give me the papers.” 

Marco nodded. “Detective Jaëger will be with your uncle to the left.” 

Despite wanting to see Detective Eye Candy again, those were the words that Levi _really_ didn’t want to hear. For the past two trips that Levi had taken to the station, Detective Jaëger — _Eren,_ had been there, smiling at him with his too-bright smile and dancing ocean-eyes; looking much too pleased to be in a dingy interrogation room with company such as Kenny and Levi. 

It also didn’t help that Eren was a naturally touchy-feely guy, both physically and emotionally, and made to sit with their legs touching, telling Levi every aspect of his life since Mikasa came to live with them as Levi signed Kenny’s release forms.

He didn’t know what was worse: feeling Eren’s delicious heat up against his body knowing that he could never have the boy in the way he truly wanted, or how he seemed ignorant of Levi’s internal struggle each time Mikasa’s name was brought up. Or even worse: the way Eren’s beautiful eyes dimmed and were downcast at the end of each of their little meetings, as though talking to Levi didn’t satisfy him. This, Levi understood bittersweetly: he really wasn’t much of a talker, and barely contributed to their conversations other than ‘brat’, ‘shit’, and ‘crap’. 

Even so, Levi found himself lowering his walls, telling Eren bits and pieces about his childhood hours not spent head-in-toilet: the sneaking out late with Isabel and Farlan; the forced social mingling with Hange and Erwin; his day-to-day mishaps with Petra and the others on his team.Albeit, he spoke without Eren’s eagerness, fearing for a slip-up. 

“Levi!” Eren had taken to calling him by his first name. 

Levi gave him a curt nod. “Eren.” He _really_ liked saying Eren’s name. 

Kenny, in the background, was silent, watching the two men with a twitching grin. 

Eren’s smiled widened, showing pearly whites. He sat on the chair Ronald McDonald occupied on the first night they met, watching Levi as he signed the release papers. 

“Hey Levi?”

“What is it, brat?”

“Mikasa’s coming back in a week.” Eren’s voice had taken on a hesitant note, as it often now did when the girl was brought up. “I was thinking, maybe we can all have dinner together? A sort of reunion thing? I’m actually a really into cooking; I make a mean casserole.” 

“Am I invited?” Kenny was ignored, the only sound in the room being the scratch-scratching of Levi’s pen. 

“Absolutely not.” Levi said cooly. 

Eren frowned, and it took all of Levi’s will power to not tack on a ‘just joking’ just to see the expression dissipate. 

“Why though? Isn’t it nice to be with your family?” 

_And family leaves a six-year-old girl to fend for herself on the streets,_ Levi grimaced. 

“Brat,” he said slowly, fixing the younger man with a sullen glare. “Not every family in life makes you puke rainbows like your own, brat. Thought you would’ve gotten the memo living with Mikasa all these years. Our family? _Nonexistent._ Never gave a damn and won’t be giving one now.” He jabbed his pen at Kenny. “As soon as Mikasa’s back, I’m kicking this bastard out. Wake up and grow up. What, those bright eyes of yours are rosy-filters or something?” 

“I’m _not_ a brat.” Levi winced at the tone of Eren’s voice, at the furrow of his brow and the darkening of his eyes. “I’m an adult and a fucking cop, Levi. I’ve seen it all.” 

Levi snorted. “Eren, ‘it all’ for you is something along the lines of collaring drunken misfits and going home to your parents house where they’ll stuff you full of fluff and protein.” 

Eren was silent, before speaking in a frustrated manner. “Come to dinner, Levi. I…you’re older, and probably have experienced more but, fuck! This indifference you have towards family, towards Mikasa, it’s bullshit. You obviously care about your family, about Kenny and Mikasa. You’re here for Kenny every time though you threaten to castrate him. And you’re putting up with him because Mikasa asked you to!” He near shouted. “How can you say you ‘don’t give a damn’? You obviously care!” 

_Mikasa, Mikasa, Mikasa._

In the next second, many things happened — and what Levi would do to take it back! He wished what happened was that the sullen girl poofed into existence in the room, summoned by her name called thrice like Beetlegeuse. Instead, he felt the final anchors of his temper snap with each mention of her name, reminding him of how _guilty, guilty, guilty_ he felt. 

How he wasn’t good enough for Eren. 

He stood abruptly, his chair showed back with such force that it hit Kenny’s metal cage with a _clang!_ He stared the detective down, frustration and anger livid in his gunmetal-grey eyes. 

“The hell makes me put up with their shit?” He shouted. It’s the fucking guilt!” He laughed bitterly at Eren’s shocked expression. “Ever wondered how Mikasa ended up at your doorstep? Why’d she come live with you when she has an available legal relative to take care of her? Because I was a fucking selfish bastard who only thought of himself and sent a little girl away because I had a shit life!” 

Eren stared at him, eyes wide, mouth dropping open at the confession. 

It was a bad idea, but Levi continued ranting. 

“I-I…I’m using them, Eren,” his voiced lowered as he came to the realization. He chuckled, before shouting: “I’m using them, Eren! I’m using them as excused to come see you!” 

He gasped when he realized his mistake, hands flying to cover his mouth. Eren did not move a single inch, attention fixated on the shorter man so much, that he might burst into flame from the heat. 

“L-Levi…I” Eren’s voice was shaky and Levi held up a hand, silencing the boy. 

“Do you see what type of man I am now, Eren? A damn fucking selfish one.” Levi’s voice was quiet, and shaky in its own way. “I only think for myself and keep people around me to use them. I’m…I’m the opposite of you; I’m a bad person and I’m using my badness to see you and your goodness.” He laughed again, sorrow apparent in each forced chortle. “The irony.” 

It was too hot and stuffy in the interrogation room, and Levi couldn’t stand the stifling pressure, couldn't bare to meet Eren’s gaze and see the disgust he had previously only seen in his nightmares. He needed to leave. 

“You.” He glared at Kenny. “Get home on your own.” And then he was off: zipping through the station, out into the parking lot. When he was safe in the confines of his car, he banged his forehead into the steering wheel, cursing. 

“Shit,” he realized. “I still have his jacket. How am I supposed to fucking face him now?” He moaned. 

* * *

 

Two nights later, the call came in at 3:24 AM. 

There was something off about his uncle’s voice; not the change in pitch from intoxication, but rather, a certain pinched quality that had Levi thinking that the man was in serious pain. _God,_ Levi thought, _I really do care._

“Where are you, Kenny?” He asked and was surprised when the man gave him a residential address instead of the Trost Police Station. 

Number 4 Sina Drive was on the rich side of town where residents lived out Jay Gatsby’s American dream, owning white picket fences and suburban homes with more than one garage. When Levi arrived, he managed to stifle a snort when he saw his uncle stuck in a set of rather high fences, his face in agony as the angry homeowner whacked his bottom which a golf club when Jean was unable to hold him back. With a start, he realized that Kenny was once again wearing Eren’s jacket; the one that Levi had looked all over for to console himself with. 

He was so consumed by the scene that the small “Hey” emitted from his right side had him blinking rapidly as the voice’s sheepish owner stood by his side. 

Levi trained his eyes on the ground, searching for pillbug and whatever other creepy crawlies would be out this time of the year. 

“Hey.” He mumbled back, then settled for watching jean wrestle back a man with a thin, wiry moustache and a receding hairline. He blinked. Jesus Christ, was that Nile Dok? Despite the nervousness that erupted within him in Eren’s company, he couldn’t help but think that he aged much better than his childhood bully. 

“Mika did tell me about you before.” Eren’s voice was soft, eyes gently reflecting the blaring lights of the police cruiser. “I was pissed at first, you know? When I heard that…that her own family abandoned her — abandoned a _child!_ I guess that’s what made me really want to cherish her, to show her that she still can have a family to support her.” 

He paused, taking a deep breath. Levi didn’t interrupt, knowing that the younger man had more to say. The pair stood in silence as Eren struggled for words, watching Dok slug Jean in the face, to which Jean shoved him into Kenny and the fence. Kenny yelped as the force of Dok crashing into him dislodged him from the fence. 

“But for some reason, Mika never hated you. Whenever I tried to shit-talk you, she would say ‘What could he have done?’ or some other bullshit like that. I never got it. Not until she turned eighteen and met you and Kenny for the first time in twelve years.” 

Levi remembered the day Eren was talking about; the day when he handed Kenny off to his younger cousin, and the guilt made his stomach clench unpleasantly. 

“She told me how it was the right choice; how she was glad that she came to live with me and my parents. How you’ve had your hands full this entire time taking care of yourself and your uncle, and wouldn’t have been able to juggle her problems as well. You know…she doesn’t blame you, for anything.” Eren turned his body to face the shorter man. “And after getting t know you, I don’t either.” 

“You don’t?” Levi repeated. 

Eren shrugged. “Pretty sure I couldn’t have put up with a drunkard idiot of an uncle for as long as you have. Couldn’t imagine taking care of a kid in addition to that.” 

“Huh,” Levi said intelligently, also squaring his shoulders to face his companion. 

Eren grinned. “So, dinner?” 

“Why are you so fixated on that?” Levi rolled his eyes, though on the inside, he felt jittery, as though his stomach was filled with butterflies; the beautiful kind, taking flight and with them, the guilt that had saddled Levi for the past sixteen years. 

The grin on Eren’s face stretched and even in the dark, Levi could see the ocean’s waves crashing in his dazzling orbs. “Obviously so I could bring a hot guy home and impress the fuck out of everyone!”

“A hot guy?” Levi parroted as his brain started making plans to use those silken pyjamas. 

Eren flushed. “Well…I mean, this is gonna sound horrible and if my boss hears it I’m so on desk duty.” He took a deep breath and scratched his head. “I was kind of hoping that it would be Kenny that I’m arresting each time I get called. So I can see you.” He blushed again. 

“Am I uncle of the year or what?” Kenny shouted from a few yards away, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Oh God,” Levi moaned in realization. “The bastard was doing it on purpose the entire time.” Everything suddenly made sense: why Kenny would commit such petty and stupid crimes for no apparent reason. All of it was so that Levi would be able to meet Eren. 

“I kinda picked up on it,” Eren laughed sheepishly. “I may or may not have asked Marco to assign me to Kenny Ackerman whenever he comes in.”

“Really.”

The two men stared dopily at each other against a backdrop of a broken fence, Jean putting Nile Dok in cuffs for assaulting a police officer, and Kenny jogging away while the cops were distracted. They didn’t know who started leaning in first, but when warm lips found each other in passionate caresses, slips of tongue, and the release of gasps and moans, it didn’t quite matter anymore. Who initiated it, the backdrop — the moment was perfect, and to his dying day, Levi would continue to believe so as Eren’s teeth caught his lower lip in a teasing bite before letting go. 

Eren’s big hands were perched on Levi’s hip, rubbing patterns. Content, Levi cast a look over the detective’s broad shoulder. 

“My uncle just ran away. Shouldn’t you catch him?” He said as he leaned into Eren’s chest. 

He felt Eren’s shoulders go up in a shrug. “Nah, I’m liking the guy now so unless Mr. Dok’s gonna press civil charges, Kenny Ackerman is free to go.” Eren drew away and Levi instantly missed his warmth. “On the other hand, you, Levi Ackerman. I’m placing your heart under arrest.” He took out his handcuffs. 

Levi rolled his eyes. “What a shit line.” He said, but felt himself smiling as Eren threw his head back and laughed. “Take it, shitty brat. It’s yours to arrest.” 

Levi looked to the night sky, sending up a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens, Kenny, Ronald Reagan, Kenny, Marilyn Monroe, Kenny, clowns, _and_ Kenny; thankful for whatever delusion allowed for these misfits to manifest in Kenny’s head. For the first time in his life, he feels grateful for his uncle. After all, how many uncles have gotten arrested just to hook up his socially awkward nephew with his hot detective crush? 

He looked down and saw Eren down on one knee, mirth dancing in his eyes. 

“Levi Ackerman,” Eren said, holding out his handcuffs. “Will you go out with me?” 

Bless Kenny Ackerman. 

* * *

 

In the end, Kenny did get sent upstate again; his rap sheet of minor offenses was becoming too long to ignore. 

His parting words to his darling nephew were: “I’m expecting a wedding invitation when I get out.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing Kenny. Uncle of the year!


End file.
